


Dichotomy of Life and Death

by magickus



Category: A Matter of Life and Death (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Collars, Dom Life, Leashes, Light BDSM, M/M, Sub Death, even when domming he's a sappy dork, life is hot when he's dominant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 06:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14279463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magickus/pseuds/magickus
Summary: Life decides he wants to be on top this time. Death is very happy.





	Dichotomy of Life and Death

**Author's Note:**

> shitty summary is really shitty, fake-deep title is fake-deep
> 
> im completely bullshitting every inch of this. i hope it's ok, if not pls feel free to kick my ass

A heavy  _ thunk  _ rattles the coffee table. Death starts at the noise, glancing up from the book in his hands as Life steals his attention. Life has one hand planted on a box-- not just  _ a _ box,  _ the _ box, containing all of his more… provocative paraphernalia-- and Death’s face grows hot in an almost pavlovian response to the sight of it. Before he can open his mouth to ask, Life reaches out and lowers the book with the tip of his finger. Death recognizes the action and the calculated expression of intensity paired alongside it. Life’s lips part slightly, heavy-lidded eyes fixed upon his counterpart, unwavering.

Death knows when he’s being seduced. Carefully, he bookmarks his page and sets the book onto the table beside the ever-looming box. “How very forward of you,” he teases quietly, voice muted in the thick tension running between them. He covers Life’s palm with his own, traces the points of his fingers against tense knuckles. 

Life narrows his eyes. With a strength and speed that always leaves Death reeling in awe, he snatches up a slender wrist and vaults over the table in one smooth motion. Life flattens Death to the cushions, hips slotted between his thighs and his hand pinned beside his head. His breath catches in his throat and heat flares through his chilled body in response. Plush lips hover a scant breath from his own. Suddenly aching, Death tips his chin forward to close that distance, but Life moves back and denies him, and he  _ understands _ .

Life comes back to himself for a brief moment. His bruising grip softens and his thumb soothes over the fluttering pulse in Death’s wrist. “Can I--?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Death breathes, and to sweeten the deal, adds a faint, “ _ please. _ ”

Life, for all his teasing over Death’s kinks, reacts strongly to a single plea. His grip tightens once more and his eyes glint in a way that nears danger. He kisses Death then, hard and hungry and overwhelming and Death moans before he can help it. Life’s tongue is clever and his teeth scrape against Death’s lips.

“Bed,” he commands, slipping so  _ beautifully _ into his role that Death worries his knees will give if he attempts to stand. Somehow, he finds the strength, and Life guides him forward with a hand at the small of his back, as if unable to remove contact for longer than necessary. Death sympathizes (he’s grateful as well for the stability, light-headed from all the heat in his body rushing south).

Miraculously, they stumble to the bed without any accidents, though Life’s constant pawing at his spine makes Death’s gut twist. They reach the bedroom after an eternity and Life steps away for a moment.

“Strip." Death shudders out a breath and glances over his shoulder, meets glimmering green eyes. He reads the primal sort of hunger in them, knows it mirrors his own, and nearly rips the buttons of his shirt in his frantic disrobing. He stands there, nude and shivering (not from any sort of cold). It takes monumental effort not to turn on his heel and ravish Life against the wall, bed be damned, and as if sensing the temptation to disobey Life grips at his skinny hip and shoves him forward. Death falls easily against Life’s strength, bouncing onto his front on the bed.

Life spares him not a moment of reprieve. He follows Death down, slots his muscular frame tight against Death’s own. The soft texture of his pants and open dress shirt tickle against Death’s bare skin, the teasing press of flesh against flesh driving him mad. Death clearly isn’t thinking right, as he hardly registers his box hitting the bed beside him. A familiar anticipation thrums through him, but this time he’s on the other end-- wondering  _ just _ what Life has in store for him and  _ damn _ , he can’t wait.

Life opens the box in the same instant his hand grips Death’s chin. It takes only slight pressure before Death is tipping his head up, baring the pale plane of vulnerable skin. He trembles as Life’s lips find his flesh and suck and bite until angry red and purple marks litter his skin like the stars in Life’s hair and eyes.

The attention sufficiently distracts him-- he feels a surge of pride at Life’s cunning-- and when Life twists his arms behind his back he moves pliantly. Satiny silk encompasses his arms three times over, binding together his wrists and his forearms. He gives an experimental tug at his binds and with a bone-deep satisfaction finds a complete lack of give.

“Comfortable?” Life asks him, a deliberate echo of his own words, and Death laughs and nods eagerly.

“Perfect.”

“Good,” he can hear the smile in Life’s voice, feel it in the kiss he presses to the nape of his neck. “Do you remember our signal?”

Death huffs and rolls his eyes and Life quirks an eyebrow at his petulence. Still, he flashes his middle finger, and Life chuckles in a bright, salacious way. “That’s the plan.”

Life earns himself a kick to the calf for that joke. The reprimand is immediate, strong hands clutching the soft flesh of his inner thighs as Life shoves his legs apart with a click of his tongue. “Watch it,” Life warns, and his grip goes soft, but his voice doesn’t. “Do I need to remind you who’s in charge here?”

His cock twitches in interest. Death exhales a shaking breath to steady himself. “Perhaps,” Death huffs in a faint laugh, pushing and pushing, curious and eager to see how far Life will go.

Life growls--  _ actually _ growls, deep in his chest, and Death shivers from head-to-toe, mouth falling open in a silent gasp as Life grinds against his ass. He presses his face into the sheets and moans, wanton and unrestrained, chills dancing along his skin at the barest amount of contact.

Something cold clicks around his neck. Death stills, eyes wide in shock and  _ wonder _ . They haven’t had a chance to try  _ this _ yet. Life tightens the collar snug against his throat and he swallows when the thin leash follows and he’s practically  _ vibrating _ beneath his skin, mouth open as he pants hard, cock leaking onto the sheets, and he hasn’t even been  _ touched _ yet.

“Not too tight?” Life asks, tracing the tip of his finger around the point where leather meets skin and Death burns at the fleeting contact. He shakes his head no, throat suddenly too tight to speak, and Life hums in approval. A sharp tug of the leash forces Death onto his knees and chest. “Good boy,” comes the praise and Death isn’t  _ ready  _ for it, and Life yanks on the leash and forces his head up so his desperate keen rings loud in the space between them.

Life’s breath shakes against the shell of his ear, the hard planes of his body perfect against him. Death trembles and grinds his hips back, for contact--  _ anything _ \-- and he receives another tug in return and the collar hugs tight against his throat and the sensation rushes through him like a flash-flood.

“If you want something, ask,” Life orders, and Death doesn’t play disobedience, lets the endless pleas pour from his mouth.

“Fuck me, Life, I want you to fuck me,” he gasps. Life moans, faint but there, and giving him such pleasure makes him tremble in want, and he can’t stop himself. “Just like this-- want you inside,  _ please _ .”

“ _ Fuck _ .” Life hisses in his ear, and his hips give an aborted half-thrust against Death’s ass, and it’s so  _ close _ to what he wants that he’s shaking with it, mumbling a half-coherent litany of pleas under his breath, even as Life concedes to his wishes. The finger sliding into him shuts him up quickly.

It burns and aches, especially when a second finger joins the first, but Death loses himself in it, breaths heavy in his chest as he rocks his hips back onto Life’s hand. The leash tightens and he chokes on his moan but keeps going until he feels like he may fall apart at the seams. Life, so beautifully attuned to him, withdraws his fingers and leaves Death with an aching emptiness.

It doesn’t last long. Life is swept up in it, too, almost too-eager in the way he slides his slick cock inside Death. He winces, but pushes back, groans deep at the stretch and the fullness that sends him reeling.

And then there’s movement. Life draws his hips back, so so slow, burning him from the inside out. Death gasps, and when Life’s hips snap forward the sound drifts into a cry.

Life sets a hard pace, not allowing Death any room to think, too overfilled with burning heat and so much of  _ Life _ . His fingers twist in the air, searching for an anchor, and he sobs, throat tight around his wanton noises, accompanied by the sharp slap of skin-on-skin.

A sharp tug at the leash hauls him up onto his knees. Life nearly  _ pulls _ him back onto the next thrust, and the new angle shoves that perfect, thick cock deeper inside, brushes perfect against his prostate and makes sparks dance in his eyes. The collar digs into his skin and threatens to choke him and he gasps and unshed tears sting in his eyes. “ _ Uhn _ ,” he moans, his voice lilts with each thrust, “ _ so good, so good. _ ”

With Life, there’s always a sort of dichotomy-- with the punishing pace comes a tenderness that only Life can have; lips soft against his shoulder, breaths warm against his skin, a prayer of his name,  _ Death, Death, Death _ .

It’s too much-- the soft and hard, push and pull-- and with a shiver and a groan Death comes hard, his tears finally spilling over his lashes and wetting his cheeks. His body goes taught, like a spring, convulsing with wave after wave of heat lapping through him, beneath his skin, spreading through his hips. Life moans, somewhere far away, and follows not long after, clutching Death tight against his chest like a lifeline.

A soothing sort of stillness drifts over them, soft and heavenly. Death slumps back against Life, chest heaving with exertion, sticky with sweat. Life stays steady against him. He can’t think. Life removes the collar and unties his arms and scatters sweet kisses against the indentations left behind on his skin. Death takes the moment to recollect the scattered pieces of himself.

“Was that good?” Life asks, sensing his return to rationality. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you at all?”

Death laughs, his voice raw from overuse, and Life presses more kisses to his throat in wordless apology. “Yes, yes, and no,” he answers in turn. “You were amazing. If I had known you had  _ that  _ in you, I would have suggested it myself.”

“And miss the opportunity to catch you off-guard? Not a chance.”

Death quirks an eyebrow and cranes his neck, meeting Life’s bright, shining eyes. “I won’t be caught off-guard so easily next time.”

Life smiles back and something in Death clenches, and they’re kissing before he can register the distance closing between them, sweet and warm. “I’ll take that as a challenge,” Life says against his lips.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
